Perception
by Phyby
Summary: A small piece about the relationship of Marcy and David. Just some thoughts, feelings and background colors. Work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

+++Authors Note: Hey guys, this is my first (ever) fan fiction so I very much appreciate any comments, recommendations and critique you can give me. Also, English is not my first language so I apologize for any misspelling or false use of grammar – again I'm happy about all tips. Thanks!+++

 **Pic 1**

A strange thing – that's what it was. He looked at her like he'd forgotten the place around them, like the world had stopped spinning, like they'd fallen out of time.

Well, she had actually. Out of her time of existence, even out of the time of her body. The age gap between her host and her mind wasn't as huge as Trevor's, who had to cope – or enjoy? – a set back of more than a hundred years. Hers wasn't even as big as Carly's, who had trimmed about twenty years of her former self.

For Marcy twelve years have passed by in the wrong direction. So while she maybe appreciated the fair skin and the slender legs of the early twenties, she sometimes wished her real age back. Than it would be more plausible to be some kind of expert for the FBI and people would trust her opinion more. But would David look at her like that? She'd read his file – the false one presenting him as a reporter – but nevertheless she was sure his date of birth stated there was right. He was 28 years old, not too much younger to her 34, but still.

She snapped out of her rambling train of thoughts when she heard him call her name. It took her a second to focus on his face, which was so near to hers she could see the amused sparks in his eyes.

„Where did you go?", he asked with a quite chuckle.

„Nowhere, sorry, just wondering."

„Wondering what?"

She lowered her eyes, trying to think of a little lie to tell him. She couldn't come up with one this time.

„What you see, when you look at me like that."

His smile got broader while his eyes went serious. „I see a miracle."

Now it was his turn to look away, almost embarrassed by his blunt admission. With a soft touch she lifted his chin and waited till his eyes followed the movement and looked at her again – even more deeply than before. With a long, longing kiss she took his self-doubt away and her own with it. A strange thing in deed, she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Pic 2**

The word still ringed in her ear: Overwrite. Plain and simple – and the end of her life. She knew the others thought differently. She would still be herself, they said, would still have all of her knowledge and memories for her old life. Just that they didn't actually count Marcy as part of her life – even though that girl had been her for several months now. And she started to loose track of where she ended and Marcy started.

The two of them had merged into one being. And David had been the catalyst. He had connected her former self with the young women of the twentyfirst. Under his guidance she had not just created the new Marcy but had filled her with life. A life that was about to be erased by a klick on a keyboard.

They had entered the city a few minutes ago. The green meadows had been replaced by concrete and people. Life was buzzing around the crowded streets as Marcy stared blankly out of the window. There was only Mac in the car with her. When they had left the farm he had made short orders for the others to take the second van. No-one had argued. They all seemed to understand that she needed those few precious minutes to herself.

Mac hadn't said a word since they started driving, but she could feel his gaze sliding sideways as if to check if she was about to break out in tears or have a violent outbreak. She appreciated the concern. And even more she appreciated that he had understood her hesitation. Die in a few days or loose some months of memory and life on. It should have been an easy choice.

For Grace it absolutely was. And even for the rest of the team the decision seemed clear. But Mac understood. Understood that it wasn't just about loosing recollection of a part of her life or going back to the true self from before the transfer. Because that wasn't her true self anymore. The choice was not about living or dying – that would be simple – it was who they would choose to kill. Because one of them had to go: the traveler or Marcy, her old or her new life.

She glanced at Mac in the drivers seat. His eyes focussed on the street, his expression stern and his mind obviously spinning. He knew about the struggle she was fighting because merely days ago he had been there too. And he had favored his new life. Instead of following the orders – and any rational argument – he had put his wife (the wife he himself had never chosen) into the stasis capsule.

Now she understood why. Because he wasn't faking to be Grant MacLaren anymore but had become him. And Grant MacLaren loved his wife; at least to some extend traveler 3468 did, too. Marcy could imagine how hard it must be for him to fully except that. She wondered if he and Carly have had time to talk.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the car stopped.

„There we are."

She just nodded and numbly took off her seatbelt. When she stepped out of the car the second van just pulled up behind them. They walked up the stairs in silence. At the door Marcy took out the keys and for a second feared that David might already be home. She hadn't thought of anything to say to him yet.

But when the door swung open only sunlight greeted them in the apartment. Now she needed to focus and stop hanging on to the schizophrenia that was her life. She would direct her attention on David. What would she tell him? How would he react? Could she lie?

Philip followed her into the kitchen.

"I didn't know you had someone that important in your life".

"Neither did I."

She really hadn't until Grace had explained her plan. Then the her first thought had flown to David and the look in his eyes when she had come to move out her stuff a few days ago. It hadn't been the brutal fact of her dying that had knocked him over but the prospect of not being with her when it happened. In that moment she had seen how deeply he cared for her, how far he would go. And today at that farm house table, with a cure offered to her, she had realized she just felt the same.

So she was grateful for the chance to see his face one last time. Because afterwards, the eyes who would look at him wouldn't see what she saw. She filled a kettle for the tea. The others were strolling around the apartment, talking in hushed voices. As she moved over to the stove a small smile moved up her face. She knew what she would say to him.

Then the pain started and even before her own screams reached her ears everything went black.


End file.
